Someone photographed us dancing.
I found out the way I found out about most things I didn't want to know — Otto, seven in the morning, sending me a link with the message: *okay so. don't panic. but also.*
I clicked it.
The photograph was good. Whoever had taken it knew what they were doing — the composition was deliberate, the light catching both of us in a way that made it clear this was not candid. We were on the gala floor. His hand on my back. My face tilted up to his. Both of us unaware of the camera. The specific quality of two people who were not performing for anyone.
The caption on the pack-affiliated social channel where it had been posted: *Alpha Ashveil and his west-side doctor. Kaelthorn Pack Alliance Gala. The Hold opens its doors to the woman who built a case against it.
